I’m a fairly tattooed guy, but a simple t-shirt hides most of my
tattoos. Both of my upper arms, though, are covered with colorful,
intricate pieces, and these are only partly obscured by short sleeves.
And this is a problem—not because I don’t want people to see this body
art; of course I do. But curiosity gets the better of many otherwise
sane people’s social sensibilities.

If you have a tattoo that peeks out into the world, I’m sure you
instantly know what I’m talking about. For those who are still in the
dark, let me give you a few examples.

One recent morning I went to my local convenience store to get a cold
beverage. The cashier rang me up and, as I was pulling my wallet out to
pay, I could see her eyes flicking back and forth between my arms. She
was staring—intently, with a glint of wonder—at the tattooed parts of my
arms exposed between sleeve and elbow.

I didn’t mind this. But then I saw a telling grin on her face. And
before I could finish thinking, “Oh no, don’t do it,” she wordlessly
reached over the counter and lifted up my shirtsleeve. You know, so she
could get a better look at my inked flesh. As if she knew me. As if she
wasn’t a cashier brazenly manipulating the clothing of a customer
without so much as a warning.

This anecdote is not anomalous, I assure you. It happens entirely too
often. And I’m lucky enough to be a 20-something male, which means the
violation I feel doesn’t begin to compare to what others I’ve heard from
have experienced.

Consider a 20-something female friend of mine. She has a lovely
tattoo on her shoulder blade and back; you can see part of it when she’s
wearing a tank top. And some strangers who get that glimpse just go
head and pull back the clothing’s edge in order to get a better gander
at the artwork on her skin.

Or take this even more extreme example: Another friend with an
extensive leg tattoo was standing on the sidewalk when she felt
something on her leg. She looks back and there’s a middle-age
woman—oddly enough all the perpetrators in the stories I’ve heard have
been middle-aged women—reaching to pull up my friend’s skirt so she
could get a better view of the leg tattoo. My friend, who was rightfully
taken aback, slapped the woman and walked away upset.

Would the strangers in these stories be considered anything less than
uncouth, handsy violators if there weren’t a tattoo there that they
simply had to see? Why does a tattoo suddenly change the rules of what people think is and isn’t acceptable to do to other bodies?

Yes, tattoos are outwardly facing—some more so than others—and some
are quite eye-grabbing. So it’s no surprise they draw attention. But
they’re also inextricable from a person’s body. When you stare at a
tattoo, perhaps you think this is like starting at a work of art in a
gallery. It’s not.

Tattoo etiquette is nothing new, there are a number of attempts to address it through guidelines, rants, and raves, which all amount to the same general principle:
“Tattoo etiquette dictates that you simply ask the tattooed person if
you can take a look at their tattoo and if you can touch it.”

But these broad statements do not seem to have made anything better.
In fact, based on my experience and that of the people I’ve talked to,
things are actually getting worse. People are becoming bold, more
willing to touch and grab at others’ ink.

I’m glad that tattoos are no longer as taboo as they used to be, and
that, for the most part, having tattoos does not push you to the fringes
of polite society. But too much of that society still sees body art as
an excuse to be impolite. It’s a tattoo. It’s not a sign that says, “Touch here!”